


Gym Hair, Don't Care

by nickelmd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, M/M, Misunderstandings, gym related injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 14:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelmd/pseuds/nickelmd
Summary: Dean has to borrow one of Charlie's shirts before he heads to the gym. Misunderstandings ensue.





	Gym Hair, Don't Care

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes a picture gets posted in your group chat and you have to write a fic. I don't make the rules.

“Shit.”

“Yikes. Sorry, Dean.”

“It’s ok.” Dean whips off his shirt and wipes the excess coffee off his chest. “I was going to the gym, though. Do you have any t-shirts that might fit me?”

Charlie eyes him up and down long enough for Dean to feel the beginnings of a blush. She taps her cheek with one finger. “I think I have something. It’s a little big for me, so probably a little small for you, but I think it will work. Hold on.” She runs into her room and comes back with a salmon pink tank that says “gym hair don’t care” across the chest. Dean’s too relieved to bother complaining about the color or the message. He pulls it on quickly. It hugs his chest tightly and Dean can’t help the face he makes.

Charlie laughs at Dean’s expression. “If I had handed you this shirt when we first met, you never would have worn it, you know,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, well, things change. I would have punched a dude in the face if he tried to hit on me too, but now I’ve sucked at least four dicks, so…” Dean replies, mostly to see the face Charlie makes.

“Gross, dude. TMI. Wait. ‘at least’?” Charlie scrunches up her face like she’s doing mental calculations. “I only know about three dates you’ve had since you figured out you’re bi. Have you been holding out on me?”

Dean shrugs. “One night, not long after I came out, I went to a gay bar and got hammered. It wasn’t my finest hour. I sucked at least one dick, but specifics are hazy.”

“Ugh. Men are the worst. Go sweat out some testosterone while I clean my brain with bleach.” She emphasizes her plan by pushing Dean toward the door.

Dean puts up a token protest while letting himself be moved in the right direction. When they reach the door, he turns the handle while dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. “Careful with the bleach, Red, don’t want to lose any brain cells.” He slips out the door before she can reply.

* * *

Dean likes his gym. It’s small and low-key. It doesn’t have all the modern whistles and bells, but that’s fine with him. There aren’t usually a lot of guys his age, which is doubly fine. In fact, it may not be the main reason he picked this gym, but lack of eye candy was definitely a factor. He joined the gym back when the main stress in his life was figuring out his bisexuality. For the last six months it has been a place where he can zone out and not worry about how bangable a dude is. Charlie called it his ‘sexual safe-space’ which sounded dumb when she said it, but in retrospect was a good description.

One of the things Dean likes best about his gym is that it’s rarely crowded. Dean’s a creature of habit, and, so it seems, are his fellow gym goers. There’s a rotating cast of five or six characters that Dean usually nods to in passing. Today there’s Justin, a chunky, middle-aged dad-type who kills it at the punching bag; Betty, an older lady with three grandkids, ask Dean how he knows; Pat, a skinny teenager who struggles with the weights every week, but doesn’t quit, and a couple people Dean doesn’t recognize. Dean ignores them and starts his warm up.

Dean’s got his music up loud enough to drown out the sounds of the gym and to try to get into his own headspace. He’s just sinking into it when a t-push up has him looking over at the treadmills. He gets distracted by a pair of bright blue eyes studying him. He pauses a little too long with one arm in the air, but the dude doesn’t seem to notice, so Dean ducks his eyes and goes back to work.

The next move has him facing the other way. On the next, he keeps his eyes off the guy. By the next time he’s due to face the guy, curiosity gets the best of him. He lifts his arm and turns his head to see if he’s still staring. He is, in fact, staring at Dean’s chest. His eyes are squinted and his head is tilted like he can’t quite figure out what he’s looking at. Dean remembers he’s wearing Charlie’s salmon pink shirt. It’s a little small, but that reaction is too insulting for Dean to consider fully. The guy looks to be about Dean’s age. Handsome as fuck with short dark hair that’s sticking up in disarray. Unaware of Dean’s attention, the man’s gaze wanders down Dean’s legs and travels slowly back up to his face. He startles when he sees Dean looking at him and quickly looks toward the bank of TV’s positioned in front of the treadmills. Dean honestly doesn’t know if he’s being checked out or insulted.

In a move that exemplifies why he chose a gym without a lot of eligible dudes, when Dean finishes his warm-up instead of moving to weights, he heads to the empty treadmill next to the peeping tom. He tells himself he’s not going over to flirt. He tells himself that his sudden decision to run a few miles has nothing to do with tall, dark, and possibly interested. He’s perfected the art of lying to himself.

He can see just enough in his peripheral vision to know hot guy is distracted by Dean fiddling with the treadmill controls. He sets himself an easy pace to get started. If that makes it easier for him to concentrate on his hot neighbor, that’s just how it is. Dean glances over at the controls next to him and takes a moment to be impressed by the guy’s pace. Dean notices that hot guy continues to glance over every few minutes. The next time Dean sees movement, he turns his head to catch him in the act. He offers him a wide, friendly smile and a wink. There’s a small hiccup in the guy's stride, but he offers a small smile back. Dean notices his eyes flick down to Dean’s chest again and up to the top of his head before turning straight ahead. Dean glances down to his borrowed shirt again, wondering if his nipples are showing. He doesn’t notice anything, but thinking about his nipples draws his attention to the taught fabric pulling across his chest. If they weren’t poking through the shirt before, they’re going to be soon.

The next time Dean catches him looking, the guy doesn’t turn away. “Hi,” Dean says encouragingly.

“Hello,” Hot Guy replies but hesitates without continuing.

“I’m Dean.” He’s shooting for flirty, but it comes out a little breathy from his run.

“Castiel.” Hot guy-Castiel--says it smoothly, like he hasn’t been running already for at least 30 minutes.

In an awkward move, Dean reaches his arm across his body in an offer to shake hands while still running. Castiel briefly takes it in a firm hold. His hands are warm and huge. Dean tries not to audibly swallow. Castiel glances down at his chest again briefly and looks up like he might have something else to say. Dean waits, but Castiel just shakes minutely and looks ahead. Dean tries again. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new?”

“I joined last week. I just moved here a few months ago.”

“How do you like the area?”

Castiel glances back at him. “I’m adjusting.” Castiel seems to be making an effort to stay aloof, but Dean knows he has to be at least a little interested.

Dean leans a little closer over the side of his treadmill bars. He uses his most charming voice, “Well, I’ve lived here my whole life. If you need any help adjusting, I’m your man.” He ends it with a wink, just to be sure he gets his point across.

Castiel’s forehead pinches together between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, was that a flirtation?”

Dean laughs a little to cover his embarrassment. He could lie and say he was just being friendly, but he makes it a policy not to lie to people he’s trying to pick up. He clears his throat and looks ahead, “Yeah, man, I guess it was.”

“Dean, please don’t take this the wrong way, you seem very nice, and lord knows you’re the most handsome man who has ever hit on me. Under normal circumstances, I would be very interested in getting to know you, but I have to doubt the sincerity of anyone who wears a t-shirt that says ‘cum hair.’”

Time stops. Dean’s mouth drops open. His feet stop. He looks down at his shirt. He looks up at Cas who is suddenly much farther away. He falls off the back end of the treadmill.

“Dean!” He hears Castiel say.

Dean is on the floor in a crumpled heap. He didn’t hit his head on the way down and, as he stretches out all his limbs, he seems to have escaped spraining anything too serious.

“Dean, are you ok?” Castiel is right next to him now, looking worried. “Say something!”

“Gym hair,” Dean croaks out.

Castiel has his hands on Dean, looking for injuries. “What?” he asks, looking back to Dean’s face.

“Gym. Hair.” Dean repeats, pointing to his chest. “Gym Hair, Don’t Care.”

Castiel looks down at the words on his chest again. His eyebrows climb up his forehead and his mouth forms a soft _Oh_. He looks briefly crestfallen, but that’s soon overtaken by a small laugh. The small laugh grows until Dean has to join in. Soon they’re both laughing so hard tears leak down their cheeks.

Dean pulls the bottom of the offending shirt up to his eyes to wipe away the tears still on his face. Castiel’s eyes drop to the wide expanse of skin Dean has just revealed. Dean watches, fascinated, as Castiel’s throat bobs. When he looks back up to Dean’s face, he’s serious once again. “Dean, are you really all right?”

“Yeah, man. Just my pride, I promise.”

“Could I please take you out for an apology dinner?” Castiel asks.

Castiel looks so solemn. Dean’s not sure if he’s getting asked on a date or if Castiel really feels that bad.

Dean makes an effort to stand up and Castiel rushes to help. Castiel only releases his hand once he’s sure Dean can stand on his own. “Look, Cas, the answer is yes, either way, but, just so we’re on the same page, was that a flirtation?”

Castiel makes a point to sweep Dean’s entire body with his eyes. “Yes.”

Not to be outdone, Dean smiles, leaning forward into Castiel’s space and saying, “You liked me even when you thought I was wearing a shirt that said ‘cum hair.’”

Castiel rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. He eyes Dean’s hair with a speculative look. He nods slowly. “It was,” pause, “evocative.”

Dean can feel the look Castiel is pinning on him down to his toes. Dean swallows before speaking, willing his voice not to crack, “Is that something you’d be interested in, uh, evoking?”

Castiel’s stance doesn’t change as he continues to look Dean over until Dean’s skin is crackling. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight. On a date. Like a gentleman.”

“Being a gentleman’s not all that important to me,” Dean says, but the idea that Castiel wants to take him out on a date more than he wants Dean on his knees is refreshing.

“But it is to me. Please, Dean.”

“Yeah, Ok. Let’s go on a date.” Castiel smiles slow and satisfied. Dean is hoping one date leads to enough dates that Castiel lets him see that face in another context.

* * *

They end up leaving the gym together, Dean to head home and Cas to head to work. They pause just outside the door.

“I’ll see you at seven,” Castiel says.

“Looking forward to it,” Dean replies truthfully. Castiel turns away to walk down the street, but Dean calls after him, “I can’t believe I agreed to go on a date with you and you’re not even going to put out.”

Castiel glances back over his shoulder before turning and walking backwards away from Dean. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to put out, I just don’t think coming in someone’s hair is a polite first date activity.”

Dean snorts. “Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of an asshole?”

Castiel smiles with teeth and gums. It makes something flutter in Dean’s chest. “See you tonight,” he says, turning back around to continue on his way.

“You sure you need to go to work first?” Dean calls out.

His only reply is a short wave and a loud, “Goodbye, Dean.” He doesn’t turn around.

“Bye, Cas,” Dean replies mostly to himself.

Dean stands in front of the gym for a few more minutes contemplating two facts. 1. His gym is awesome, and 2. Charlie is never getting this shirt back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [VioletHaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHaze/pseuds/VioletHaze) who always encourages me and helps make my fics better.


End file.
